FLORESVILLE — It didn’t matter how “rough” a person was or how long since they’d lost their faith, Dennis and Sara Johnson wouldn’t pass judgment. They were holy people, but never holier than thou.

“Pa” visited the nearby jail once a month, believing every man behind those bars could be redeemed. “Nanny” once convinced her grandson, who was in prison himself, not to take his own life. No one was beyond saving.

“They didn’t judge people,” Kati Wall, their granddaughter, said. “They would believe that deep down, they were a good person.

"They would forgive this [expletive] that killed them."

Bundled up on the porch on a chilly November night four days after Pa and Nanny were killed, the Johnson family shared a few packs of cigarettes and decades worth of memories. They chuckled, recalling Nanny’s “squealing, gasping” laugh, the one that came straight from her belly, Pa’s sweet tooth and his love for Levi Garrett chew.

For days, they couldn't think about them without crying. Now that they’re talking, they can’t stop. For hours, they huddled around the space heater sharing memories of the couple who helped raised most of them. A few shed some tears, but mostly from all the laughing.

'So full of love'

Pictures littered the Johnson’s dining room table.

Sara and Dennis share a photo booth kiss in 1973, the year they were married. In one picture, they hug their kids close; in another, they cuddle their grandkids. A framed photo shows the couple at a wedding dancing in the same church where they spent their final moments.

Daughter Deanna Staton (left) and granddaughter Kati Wall pose for a portrait after the funeral of Dennis and Sara Johnson at First Baptist Church in Floresville, Texas on Nov. 12, 2017. The Johnsons were killed in the First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas, on Nov. 5, 2017. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

A memorial to Dennis and Sara Johnson at their funeral at First Baptist Church in Floresville, Texas on Nov. 12, 2017. The The Johnson's were killed in the First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas the site of a shooting that killed 26 parishioners and left 30 injured. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News) Kati Wall, Deanna Staton,

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

Dennis Johnson's hat at his funeral at First Baptist Church in Floresville, Texas on Nov. 12, 2017. The The Johnson's were killed in the First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas the site of a shooting that killed 26 parishioners and left 30 injured. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

Dennis and Sara Johnson's memorial in front of First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas on Nov. 10, 2017. The church in Sutherland Springs, Texas was the site of a shooting that killed 26 parishioners and left 30 injured. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

A photo of Dennis and Sara Johnson at a memorial in front of First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas on Nov. 10, 2017. The church in Sutherland Springs, Texas was the site of a shooting that killed 26 parishioners and left 30 injured. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

Known as Nanny and Pa to their family and pretty much everyone else, Dennis and Sara Johnson raised four kids and a pack of grandkids. They adopted Kati and her brother, Christopher Ryan, when Deanna was going through a rough patch as a young mom, and acted as parents to several others during their 44 years of marriage.

For four decades, the couple bound this family together. Through weddings and divorces, stints in jail and family squabbles, Sara and Dennis found beauty in the dysfunction. They kept their kids and grandkids rooted, reminding them of the importance of faith and family.

"They took care of everybody," Kati said. "That's how they were."

Before he met Sara and found the church, Dennis used to drink. A lot.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday, he’d find a bottle and go out looking for trouble. Then one day, a year into their marriage, Sara gave him an ultimatum: me and the kids, or the booze.

This year, he marked 43 years sober.

"He was not an eloquent person. He was not an educated person. He was comically uneducated sometimes,” Kati said.

"But he was so smart, he was wise, and he had the best stories and the best advice,” she added.

Deanna piped in, “There was a lot of people who went to Daddy with matters of the heart.”

Dennis and Sara Johnson pose on the wedding day, July 27, 1973. The Johnsons were killed on Nov. 5, 2017 by a gunman who murdered 24 others and injured dozens more at the First Baptist Church of Sutherland Springs.

(Courtesy of the Johnson Family)

Dennis and Sara Johnson pose for a photograph in 1983. The Johnsons were killed on Nov. 5, 2017 by a gunman who murdered 24 others and injured dozens more at the First Baptist Church of Sutherland Springs.

(Courtesy of the Johnson Family)

Deanna Staton holds a photograph of her mother and father, Sara and Dennis Johnson, taken in the early years of their marriage. The Johnsons were killed on Nov. 5, 2017 by a gunman who murdered 24 others and injured dozens more at the First Baptist Church of Sutherland Springs.

(The Dallas Morning News/Lauren McGaughy)

Dennis Johnson was a veteran twice over, serving in the U.S. Navy Reserves into his 50s and the Army National Guard for more than a decade after that. He was covered in tattoos, some of naked women, but Pa added bikinis after he and Sara found God soon after he got clean.

After a lifetime building ferneries (like greenhouses for ferns) he had “retired to the lawnmower” in the past decade and loved to work in the yard with his youngest son, Michael. He would watch old John Wayne movies on loop, claiming he’d never seen this one before.

Nanny loved The Walking Dead — she would have hated the fact that she’d miss the Season 8 finale —and crafting. She and her best friend, Brenda Fenner, loved painting, pottery, and their latest obsession was making jewelry. The two were like sisters, a few times a year ditching the family for road trips. Their next one was planned for just after Thanksgiving.

Sara usually brought her .38 Special when she traveled, and she always kept a knife in the car.

“She was tough to this day,” Kati said. “She thought she was invincible.”

The family keeps switching back and forth between past and present tense. Even now they won’t bring booze in the house, out of respect to Pa, whose flannel jacket remains flung over his recliner, his stack of baseball caps nearby.

The one on top says, “Jesus paid it all.” On the wall is a painting of a horse. Nanny loved horses. And they both cherished the old hymns. Carved into a wooden plaque on the wall is the chorus from one of their favorites: “If it wasn’t for the lighthouse, where would this ship be?”

In life, the couple fought to keep the family together. In death, Sara and Dennis have done that and more. In planning the funeral, the family has reconnected with relatives they’d lost contact with for decades. Johnsons and Johns and Walls and Statons and Makohans and Deatons. They're all together now.

"Y'all need to get over this crap," they'd tell the kids. Be there for each other.“They wanted that,” Kati says. “And that’s what we’ve done.

"We have all been so full of love for each other.”

'Up in heaven. Singing'

The First Baptist Church of Sutherland Springs reopened its doors on Sunday.

Its broken windows were repaired, its pews removed. The inside — ceiling, floor and walls — were painted a seamless white. White chairs, 25 of them, stood in the places where those killed here last lived.

In the back, two chairs were placed side by side. On each was painted a red cross. One bore the name “Dennis." The other, “Sara.”

Over a loudspeaker, old recordings of the church’s pastor filled the small sanctuary. He talked of salvation, redemption and forgiveness. Every so often, one of those old hymns played.

Roses are left on the chairs representing the victims as visitors are allowed into First Baptist Church to pay their respects a week after the shooting in Sutherland Springs on Nov. 12. The church was the site of a shooting that killed 26 and left 30 injured.

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

A guard stands by as visitors are allowed into First Baptist Church to pay their respects a week after the shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas on Nov. 12, 2017. The church was the site of a shooting that killed 26 and left 30 injured. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

Roses are left on the chairs representing the victims as visitors are allowed into First Baptist Church to pay their respects a week after the shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas on Nov. 12, 2017. The church was the site of a shooting that killed 26 and left 30 injured. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

Visitors file out after they are allowed into First Baptist Church to pay their respects a week after the shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas on Nov. 12, 2017. The church was the site of a shooting that killed 26 and left 30 injured. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

Visitors file out after they are allowed into First Baptist Church to pay their respects a week after the shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas on Nov. 12, 2017. The church was the site of a shooting that killed 26 and left 30 injured. (Nathan Hunsinger/The Dallas Morning News)

(Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer)

Dennis and Sara Johnson usually didn’t arrive to church on time. But last Sunday, they must have forgotten to set their clocks back an hour. Others made the same mistake, the family heard, so the early arrivals passed the extra time singing hymns.

Nanny and Pa must have loved that, they said.

Deanna teared up at the thought. Immediately, she was folded into the arms of her husband, Aaron.